


Maneater

by jaeren



Series: Requests by jaeren [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Rich Reiner, Rich reader, dancer jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeren/pseuds/jaeren
Summary: Your basically-boyfriend and almost-boyfriend comes with two sides of your life: one where you’re restricted, one where you’re free.(a Jean x Reader x Reiner request)
Relationships: Jean Kirstein & Reader, Jean Kirstein/Reader, Jean/Reader, Reiner Braun & Reader, Reiner Braun/Reader
Series: Requests by jaeren [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124558
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	Maneater

**Author's Note:**

> Someone requested a Jean x Reader x Reiner fic — and so here it is! Not much more info was provided so I took complete free reign to do whatever, literally just started writing without any plot in mind until i found one haha enjoy <3 as always, please check out my other fics

**𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫**

Reiner called out your name as you made to leave after dinner. You had planned on escaping as soon as you had finished eating, since your parents and Reiner’s would be too busy to stop you. You put on your best smile, and turned back to him.

“So,” he began, a sheepish grin on his face. He adjusted the collar of his dress shirt. “Are you free this Friday?”

You swallowed. You were and you weren’t. It was complicated. But you knew that in order to keep up this ruse with your parents, you had to pretend to be the picture perfect socialite daughter. Which meant charming Reiner Braun, so the Braun family wouldn’t pull investments from your family’s company. It was easy because he was supposedly head over heels for you. But … it hurt you to keep this going for something you hated being a part of. The falseness that was high society. Regardless, you’d technically been “dating” — if this situation could be called that — Reiner for two months now. 

“I am, Reiner.” You tilted your head slightly. “Anything in mind?”

“Great!” He grinned. Your heart sank. He was adorable and sweet, which had surprised you when you learned that about him. Good natured, and handsome, too: tall and broad shouldered, and his hazel eyes had flecks of green and brown dotted throughout. You had expected him to have a big ego and demanding personality, given the rumors about the oldest Braun, and so far he was anything but. 

“Would you want to maybe go see a movie or something? I know it’s not something your parents might approve of, but there’s this great movie—”

“I’m down for whatever. You stopped him. It didn’t matter what the movie was. By now, both your parents and his had quieted to hear your conversation. You almost winced at the tone of your voice though — this week had been especially tiring, with your parents nagging you everything you  _ weren’t _ doing. So you plastered on another simpering smile to make up for it.

Reiner’s eyebrows furrowed, but he kept his bright face on. “Alright. I’ll pick you up at 7. Have a good night!”

You wished him the same, and left the dining room. Once you got to your room, you sank into your bed, letting the plush queen bed swallow you whole.

“What am I gonna tell Jean?”

Here was your secret: you were a dancer. And no, not the kind of dancing your parents would approve of, of slow movements and swishing gowns. It was the kind of dancing where you could let your body move to pounding stereo music, the kind of dancing where you showed so much skin your parents would go into cardiac arrest.

And Jean was your teacher. Well, not  _ the  _ teacher … that was Levi, officially. Jean had taught you one-on-one for a few weeks before officially introducing you to the team. He had also been the one to find you: in a karaoke bar off 5th avenue, dancing to Maneater, hips shaking to the beat. 

You had found that paying for a karaoke room for an hour at the end of every week was the best way for you to let loose quietly, screaming, singing, swaying. Between duties to your family, your college business courses, and the endless stream of high society expectations and events, music and dance were your only source of freedom. Jean had recently been hired at that karaoke bar, and was accidentally delivering an order of fries and soda to your room.

You remember that day like it was yesterday.

_ She's a maneater, make you work hard _

_ Make you spend hard, make you want all of her love _

Your blood pounded in your ears, and your heart lept up and down in your chest as if it were dancing, too. Your hair whipped from side to side as you let your body move naturally, and you were so focused on the blaring music you couldn’t even hear the sound of the door opening, until you heard a deep male voice mixing with Nelly Furtado’s sultry voice. 

“Uh, I’ve got an order of fries and a Sprite for you?” You opened your eyes to see a tall gangly strawberry blond with slicked back long hair, wearing a dark blue dress shirt tucked into charcoal grey slacks. Your face heat up knowing that he’d seen you let loose like that. You paused the music quickly.

“Um, sorry. I didn’t order anything,” you said breathlessly, your lungs returning to their normal expansion rate now that you were still. You wondered how you looked to him: presumably with wild hair and sheens of sweat on your nose. Your thin shirt clung to your body from sweating, and you felt even more embarrassed in front of this obviously good looking guy.

For moments there was silence as you waited for him to leave.

“Y’know,” he began. “You dance really well, even if you don’t look taught.”

You frowned. Why wouldn’t he just leave and let you go back to dancing your worries away?

“Thanks, I guess,” you said. “I don’t take dance classes.” You grabbed the remote again, trying to signal that you were busy. 

To your shock, the man slipped into your room, and put the fries and Sprite on the table. He sat relaxedly on the couch, long legs struggling to fit in between the touch and the table. 

You sputtered. “I told you, I didn’t order anything! Plus, why’re—” 

“I’m thinking.” He hushed you as he grabbed a fry and began chewing on it. “On the house,” he said offhandedly, grabbing more fries.

Your face heat up out of anger, not embarrassment now. You were entirely too used to being told to hush, to sit pretty and quiet. To be seen and not heard and all that patriarchal bullshit. You stomped closer to him, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

“You wanna join our dance team?” He asked, looking up at you as you approached.

Your mouth dropped open. “ _ Huh?  _ I don’t even know your name. Neither do you know  _ mine _ . Why’re you asking that for?”

“Okay, introductions — I’m Jean Kirstein. Hot and single, but also a great dancer.” He winked at you. “We’ll get along well, since you’re also hot and single.  _ And  _ a great dancer.”

Reiner’s face flashed at the back of your mind; you weren’t dating, but you might as well now that your parents had introduced the two of you a few days ago. You closed your eyes, taking this in. You found yourself laughing at his exaggerated confidence, and this entire ordeal itself.

“First of all, quit with your assumptions—”

“What! You’re hot, aren’t you?”

“I meant the other part!”

He looked purely confused. “You don’t think you’re a great dancer?”

You groaned. “No,  _ Kirstein _ . The single bit.”

“Oh,” he said, sighing. He looked at you with a smirk. “Spend some more time with me, and you’ll wish you were single before long.”

“For fuck’s sake,!” you said, snorting. How unladylike of you, but this karaoke bar was the only time you let yourself free. 

“Look here, pretty girl, you dance like no one I’ve ever seen before. The Scouts were set to win Regionals last year, but one of our teammates — Marco, bless his soul —”

“Oh, my condolences,” you said, automatically feeling bad for his loss.

“Hmm? He’s alive, he just broke his leg.”

You gave him a look of disbelief. “You know what, I won’t say anything. Continue.”

“Right, so we’re one person short of a team. And we’ve been doing auditions for fucking weeks now. Y’know, our rival team, the Warriors, even sent a little spy our way? Some little twerp named Falco. Eren loved him, though, but he’s a fucked up maniac so that’s a different issue.”

You shook your head. “All these names are flying over my head. Will you get to the point and stop cutting into my one hour of freedom?”

“Freedom?” Jean asked, eyebrow raised.

You bit your lip. “Freedom. I have … certain expectations I can’t break, which is why I com here to let loose. Breaking those expectations includes joining a  _ dance team _ and going to Regionals!” 

“What do you mean?” Jean asked curiously.

You sighed. You gave him your family name, and his eyes widened, easily understanding why you couldn’t exactly join a dance team attracting attention to your name.

“Oh, that’s tough,” Jean said, tapping his chin, thinking. “Easy fix. We give you a fake name to go by. A stage name! You can replace your real last name with Ackerman — our choreographer, Levi, won’t mind since his cousin is already in the team. So we’ll have three of you, basically! Only your last name is well known, not your face.”

You scowled. “But — even with that, I won’t have the time.” 

Jean looked at you, deep into your eyes.

“How come you haven’t flat out rejected me yet, then? If you really didn’t want this, you would’ve sent me out by now.” He looked into the depths of your eyes knowingly, like he was reading your soul. He took a sip of the Sprite.

“I—I …” You stammered, unable to refute his statement. For moments, there was only the sound of the ice clinking in Jean’s cup.

“C’mon,” he said. “You’ll get to see more of me, won’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, and pursed your lips, thinking. You could pretend you had joined the business club on campus or something. Your parents would appreciate the career minded initiative.

“Alright.”

“Great! Here, you take a sip. You look thirsty.” He withdrew his cup.

You rolled your eyes, but accepted it anyway, needing a drink.

“Thanks, Kirstein.”

“Call me Jean,” he said. “We’re friends now.”

And the rest was history.

“You’re seriously ditching us? Babe, it’s literally the first tournament,” Jean said over the phone.

“Stop calling me babe.” Even if you wanted him to continue, even if your heart now fluttered whenever he held you during the paired dances — you couldn’t confess to him. And his teasing flirting only made it worse. Plus, there was Reiner … who you were technically seeing. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “And I know, but my parents were listening in. I couldn’t refuse— hold on a sec, I just got a text.”

It was from Reiner. Your eyes widened as he canceled Friday’s plan, saying he had forgotten a prior business engagement. 

You grinned. Perfect. “Jeanie boy, I take it back. I’ll be there.” 

You heard Jean cheering from the other end of the call, and your heart swelled. Just as Jean had predicted, getting to see more of him while practicing and competing had ended up with him as your closest friend, your secret crush.

Your mother called for you. “Alright, Jean. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“I won’t, only if you promise to bite me lat—”

You ended the call, smiling and shaking your head. Even the prospect of listening to a lecture from your mother didn’t dull the smile talking to Jean left on your face.

_ Maneater, make you work hard _

_ Make you spend hard, make you want all of her love _

You swayed into Jean’s touch, snapping your hips in rhythm with the song. His hands guided the movement, actually holding onto them. His eyes were narrowed as your breath left your lungs staring into his amber brown eyes. It was time for your separation, when you’d be dancing with the next person counterclockwise to you, who happened to be Eren. You twirled away.

_ She's a maneater, make you buy cars _

_ Make you cut cards, make you fall real hard in love _

Eren’s hands, a clear distinction from Jean’s touch, only ghosted over your hips, seemingly touching but not in actuality. At the word signal of “cars,” you sank into a slow squat, parting your legs by your knees and then closing them to the beat. After that bit, Eren helped your rise quickly by grabbing you up by the waist, while you curled your arms up into the hair, crossing your wrists and throwing your hands up towards the sky.

The rest of the choreography to this song proceeded similarly, sultry moves between all the members of the Scouts. You shimmied with Sasha, curved your body with Connie, arched your back in front of Armin — and before you knew it, the song was over. Your chest rose and fell sharply as you caught your breath while you sat on the floor in the finishing pose, your right leg crossed and head leaning on your left knee. 

The audience cheered and whooped, and all of you rose to leave.

Backstage, Levi congratulated all of you.

“Good job, brats. Though your movements could’ve been smoother,” He grumbled. But the “good job” was akin to a thousand years of compliments from the gruff teacher. Levi went to check the team listings, to see who else was left to perform before results would be announced.

You went to speak with Eren, who was with Mikasa and Armin. 

“We’re one more tournament closer to regionals!” you said brightly. “I think we’re gonna win this one just like we won the last one.”

“Hells yeah,” Eren said, squeezing his bottle to splash water onto his mouth. Water trickled down his chin to his chest, and some droplets landed on you.

“Gross, Yeager. Can’t you drink normally?” you said, wiping spots at your arm.

“Sorry,” he said, cheerfully, clearly not caring. Mikasa smacked the back of his head, and he repeated his apology more sincerely. 

“Oh yeah,” you mentioned, remembering. “How come you wouldn’t touch my hips during the dance? That could’ve been precious points.” 

Eren blushed, cheeks darkening into a red shade. His eyes flitted over to someone, and you traced the direction. It landed on Jean. Confused, you turned back to him.

“Er, just because,” he said, shrugging. “I saw the Warriors doing that once, almost touching but not quite.” The latter portion sounded very made up, with his eyes flitting around trying to piece together a story, but you let it fly, now wondering something else.

“When  _ are  _ the Warriors coming on? I can’t believe they haven’t been at the other tournaments. How are they getting to Regionals?” you said.

“Oh, you missed them,” Armin said. “They were the first to go, and I know you were stuck in traffic.” 

“Crap,” you muttered. Jetting here from your office hours session with your econ professor had been like trying to teleport amongst the city’s usual evening traffic. “Well, they probably sucked, anyway.”

Someone called out your name, and the familiar tone of voice made you instinctively code switch to your debutante alter ego, straightening your posture and smoothing your careless grin into a polite smile. You turned to face the caller, and your heart sank to the floor instantly.

A familiar hunky blond was looking at you with a different kind of grin. A shit-eating, self-satisfied grin. Reiner. Reiner fucking Braun,  _ here _ . He wore a sleeveless hoodie that was unzipped partially and showed off his muscles that gleamed in the lights backstage because of the sweat he’d acquired. You pushed back any improper thoughts.

“Y/N. Pleasure to see you here,” he said, coming closer to you. A thin boy with dark hair and a frosty looking blonde girl accompanied him, also wearing similar outfits, though the blonde wore a sports bra underneath. They were clearly a team.

Jean came up to them, standing beside you, sneering. “Reiner. Bertolt. Annie. What’re you Warrior fuckers doing here?” You wondered if you had died yet, with the way you were frozen. You had never mentioned Reiner’s name to Jean, since you avoided the topic as much as you could. Your basically-boyfriend and your almost-boyfriend were two topics you never wanted to combine. And here they were, clearly rivals.

Jean turned to you. “How do you know them?”

You made to say something, but Reiner beat you to it. He had an uncharacteristic smirk on his face. Well, uncharacteristic as far as you knew him. 

“Her soon to be fiance,” he said, drawling. His usual prim and proper, sweet and honest voice was replaced by a deep amused one. Your brain couldn’t wrap around  _ any  _ of this.

Jean looked at you for a rejection of the clear lie. But it wasn’t a lie. Because you knew the engagement was coming soon. It was why you hadn’t confessed to Jean yet. 

You swallowed tightly. “It’s true.” 

“What!” Eren said, his voice squeaking at the end of the word. Even Mikasa looked betrayed. Bertolt looked scandalized.

“But I never knew you were a Warrior!” you said, more to Reiner than to your friends.

Reiner shrugged. “And I didn’t know you were a Scout. I thought you were this boring little thing.”

You seethed, seeing red. “And I thought you were this annoying love-struck fool.”

Reiner laughed. “But here we are anyway — you’re clearly more exciting than I thought.” Reiner’s eyes were narrowed appreciatively. “Maneater, huh? Didn’t know you could dance anything more than a waltz.”

“Didn’t know you wore anything other than button-ups.” You held back curses. “So I guess you’re showing your true colors, Braun.” You crossed your arms against your chest.

“Could say the same for you. The newest member of the Scouts … little miss perfect. What a marvelous story, real plot twist here. But don’t worry, I won’t spill your little secret, since this is my secret, too.” 

If Reiner had said that a little differently, you would’ve felt sympathetic. To be in the same boat, of expectations weighing upon you when all you wanted to do was just dance and have a good time with friends. But his attitude was demeaning, rude, even.

Jean spoke up. “Look, Braun. You should get the fuck away from us before I beat your face in. It was your little stunt that got Marco sent to the hospital. And now you won’t be touching  _ her _ .” He wrapped an arm around your protectively, and while you’d normally assert that you didn’t need him to do that, you felt safe. 

Reiner whistled. “Cheating on me already? Don’t worry, Kirstein. I won’t touch her. Yet.” He winked, and you caught Annie scowl and roll her eyes. At least the Warriors had one sane member.

Reiner made to leave. But just before that, he said: “I forgot to tell you what I came to say. You’re a great dancer. Wish you didn’t need to hide it from the world.” He left without saying anything more, moving to the other side of the backstage area.

You blinked rapidly as you took in his words. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes.

“Y/N?” Jean asked. “You okay?”

You opened your eyes. You had a gleam in them now, a furious determination. You beamed at him.

“I’m perfect, Jean. We  _ have _ to beat the Warriors.” And then, suddenly knowing exactly what you needed to do, you threw your arms around Jean’s neck and kissed him deeply. His eyes widened for a second, before he reciprocated, passionately kissing you back. You heard Eren whoop in the background, Armin chuckle, a loud “tch” from Levi who was nearby now.

Jean looked at you with wide eyes when you parted. “What was that for?”

“Getting my priorities straight,” you said. Your eyes crossed paths with Reiner’s, who was clearly glaring at you from the distance having just seen the encounter.

“Something about this just made me realize that I have to seek what I want,  _ when _ I want it. And right now, I wanted two things: to win, and you.” You watched Jean blush, the bravado he usually displayed being replaced by something shy.

He calmed himself, and slanted his eyes, determined as well. “The song you danced to that first time I saw you, the one that inspired this choreo — that’s perfect for your attitude right now.”

You grinned. “Perfect. I’ve got tons of ideas for our next tournament.”

Jean intertwined his fingers with yours. He squeezed tightly. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one-shot! Left the ending open ended slightly. If you want my take on how I see things moving forward: if you're team Jean, I see y'all winning Regionals, then Nationals and confronting your parents and your background to be happy with Jean and free from your duties. If you're team Reiner, full enemies-to-lovers development as Reiner tries to give you dance pointers and the both of you work together to confront your parents and their expectations. Consider checking out my other fics <3


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